Highway 41 (Tamiami Trail)

All these sentinels, slate black
herons, snake-birds

hanging unmovably
on the road – for the meantime
the world – on its
shoulders

crept into the part of the
passer-bys, reckoned but always
dismissed

we keep moving straight ahead only

the orangely-buzzing ball, heatedly egging
drops itself
folding, turns over the edge, goes silent

crept in
we pass by reckoned but dismissed

like the eyes of the herons always
straight ahead only

straight ahead only

ahead only

always
only